


still, we're not robots inside a grid

by EyeScreamQueen



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Ableist Language, And then they were roommates, Aromantic Asexual Garnet (Steven Universe), Autism Spectrum, Autistic Peridot (Steven Universe), Awkward Romance, Dating, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Implied Amethyst/Pearl (Steven Universe), Implied Lapis Lazuli/Peridot (Steven Universe), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalised ableism, Lapis Lazuli Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, References to Depression, Sensory Overload, lapidot - Freeform, lapis is a good girlfriend, peridot is overwhelmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeScreamQueen/pseuds/EyeScreamQueen
Summary: Lapis and Peridot go to the fair, where Peridot ruminates on the social conventions of 'dating'.Missing Lapidot moment from Chapter 5 of 'you said you and I would read fairytales again one night'. Can be read as a standalone.
Relationships: Amethyst/Pearl (Steven Universe), Lapis Lazuli/Peridot (Steven Universe)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	still, we're not robots inside a grid

**Author's Note:**

> Context for those who haven't read 'you said you and I would read fairytales again one night': this snippet takes place at the fair, when Peridot and Lapis have just left Pearl and Amethyst to puzzle out their Big Damn Crush on one another.
> 
> The title is taken from 'Science vs. Romance' by Rilo Kiley, which I couldn't shake when thinking about these two dorks working their relationship out.

Peridot's first brush with the world of 'dating' occurs when she is fifteen.

A sweaty, nervous senior from her chess club asks her if she wants to go to the food court at the mall after school. She says yes, mostly because the mall is where the game store is, and she has a few old console games to trade in for store credit. It's convenient. Chances are she was going to head to the mall anyway. She doesn't think anything of it.

Her classmates, who hear it on the grapevine, think plenty. 

"Oh my God, Peri," Carnelian drawls, leaning across her desk to whisper to her during study hall. "I cannot believe you're dating Dewey."

" _What?!_ " she squeaks in alarm, very nearly catching Ms. Aquamarine' eye as they both slide back to their own seats. She feels her heart rate rising and her palms moistening as she watches Carnelian scribble a note, checking quickly that they aren't being watched, before tossing it deftly onto her desk for Peridot to furtively open and read. 

_DUDE that shits all over the school. cant believe u said yes. guys boring as sin. as SIN. never shuts up about runnin for student bod pres like its a forreal campaign trail._

Peridot keeps her eyes on the teacher, currently preoccupied scolding someone for talking at the other end of the room, before chancing a glance at Carnelian. "I am not dating Dewey. Or anyone", she hisses furiously. 

"He asked you to the mall, right?" Carnelian mutters, facing carefully forward lest they be caught gossiping. 

"Well... yes, but - "

"That's a date, idiot. If a guy asks a girl to hang out alone, and neither of them are gay, it's a date."

"I - " Peridot's mouth hangs open, cheeks flaming. Carnelian mistakes the reason for her blush.

"Do you like him?"

"NO!" Peridot badly misjudges the volume of her voice, and the teacher's eyes snap up to meet hers. In an instant, the squat shadow of Ms. Aquamarine looms over Peridot's desk, as she and Carnelian shrink guiltily back behind their desks.

"What is the meaning of this?" she squawks, before her gaze lands on the crumpled note not entirely hidden by the cover of Peridot's textbook. Her eyes bulge furiously as she extends her upturned palm. 

"I - " Peridot stammers, squirming with panic. She _hates_ being told off. Someone behind them giggles and she slides lower in her chair, trying not to hyperventilate or cry. 

"Ms. Aquamarine, it was me talking, not Peri," Carnelian tries, bravely.

"Silence. Hand that to me."

Peridot hangs her head, lip wobbling dangerously, as she turns over the note. Their teacher scans it, harumphs a snort of disgust, then shreds it slowly - in half, then quarters, and finally eighths - before dropping the pieces onto Peridot's half-finished algebra homework. 

"Dispose of this rubbish at once. And you will both stay behind after school for detention. I will speak to Principal Bianca about this," she hisses, turning to go, before glancing back. "Peridot, I'm surprised at you."

Detention and a date. She feels almost like a normal teenager for once, though her body is hot all over with shame and confusion, as Carnelian groans beside her. 

"Should've eaten the note, dweeb."

* * *

The 'date' is hell, predictably enough.

The first three-fourths pass without incident. Bill Dewey seems happy enough to have a captive audience - Peridot barely has to utter a word, trading in her old games and testing out the new soda fountain to the background noise of Dewey's diatribes on the student politics of various colleges, his order of preference based on which past and current presidents could name them as alma mater.

But as they leave the food court, Dewey pushes his wet lips to her cheek, and she doesn't realise her hand has made a fist until it connects hard with his jaw and he is sprawled on the sticky tile floor. 

"Ow!" he moans, tears in his eyes, clutching his cheek. Peridot's chest is heaving as she gazes down at him in unflattering horror. People are staring.

"Oh, stars, I - I'm sorry" she stammers, although she isn't. Dewey picks himself up, keeping a wary distance. 

"I just thought - "

"No," she hisses. "Absolutely not. Never. I am going to go home now, alone - " and she bridges the gap between them to give him a warning poke in the chest, "- and we will _never_ do this again. We will _never_ speak of this again. You will _not_ speak of this to anyone at school. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," he whimpers. Peridot nods firmly, then turns on her heel and marches out.

Within a week, the rumor is all around school that Peridot is a lesbian. She'd rather that than people wrongly assume she is dating Dewey, so she doesn't make any effort to quash it, though Carnelian offers to beat up anyone who gives her a hard time.

Peridot lets the rumor mill churn, partly because she only has three more years to survive here and doesn't care one whit what these clods do or don't think about her; but partly because she thinks - however unusually, for high school - that this rumour is probably true.

* * *

Peridot's second dating experience is almost a full decade later; when she finally, flailingly, falteringly manages to ask out Lapis Lazuli - and she says _yes_.

Unfortunately, that particular hurdle was as far as she'd had gotten, despite her many hours of analysing various potential outcomes, and agonising to Garnet about which was the most probable. Now, here they are, hand in hand on the boardwalk, and Peridot is flying blind.

She should've made a plan. Plans always helped her feel more secure. But Garnet had been adamant, gently reiterating her guidance as Peridot's panic ebbed and flowed: "Just take things easy, be honest, and you'll both have fun". Peridot reflects for a moment on the wisdom of taking dating advice from somebody who doesn't date at all, but reasons that Garnet probably knows what she's talking about. She was, after all, a Psych major.

But as they walk down the pier, she half-wishes she'd suggested they stick with Pearl and Amethyst - however, judging by the stunned look on both of their faces as their hopeless pining was finally steered to a denouement by Lapis, those two will be useless to everyone but one another for the next short while.

The fair is a riot of colour, sound, smells and people; _so_ many people, all yelling and shoving and breathing and sweating. It's a lot, and Peridot wavers for a moment, considering whether or not coming the fair for their first date was a good idea. There's a jumble of sensory stimuli flooding her every synapse, and she might be well on her way to a meltdown - or at the very least, needing a quiet few hours uninterrupted amongst her gadgets with the reassuring press of her headphones at either side of her whirring brain - if it wasn't for the steadying pressure of Lapis' hand.

So she breathes deep, quelling the radio-static fuzz of panic that creeps in at the corners of her mind when she's thrust into a new social situation, and focuses on Lapis, following her surefooted manoeuvres through the crowd.

Focusing on Lapis comes easily. She is dressed to kill, sundress rippling as she walks, the undulating fabric against muscled thighs setting Peridot's cheeks burning every time it catches her notice. Her back tattoo is on full display, the detail of the rippling wave design delicate within the bold outline of wings, stretching across her shoulderblades. Her short hair is loose, the longest part of her asymmetric bob barely skimming her collarbone, and her earrings glimmer when they catch the light: midnight-blue within simple gold settings.

They're her favourites, Peridot remembers - she hit her freedive personal best wearing them, and they've been her 'good luck' earrings ever since. Lapis lazuli, of course. Her namesake stone.

Peridot vividly remembers having asked about that, shortly after they started rooming together in college. On reflection, there is an outside chance that first overture could _potentially_ have benefited from additional forethought.

* * *

"What kind of a name is _Lapis Lazuli_?" she'd demanded, interrupting her new roommate in the act of pinning up a mandala hanging.

It was their first day in the dorms, and she'd posed the question while Lapis was midway through unpacking her hold-all and small suitcase - the only things she'd brought. Peridot was conscious of her social shortcomings, but she more than made up for it with her perceptiveness, and it hadn't escaped her notice that Lapis had moved in all alone.

"I beg your fucking pardon?" The words were precisely enunciated as Lapis' narrowed eyes slid over her shoulder towards her.

"Although common for given names, it strikes me as highly improbable that a person's surname would correspond with that of a precious or semi-precious stone. The chance of both forename and surname being such is so unlikely that I have to query whether that is, in fact, a real name."

Peridot's tone was conversational, though as Lapis' nostrils flared the temperature in the room had seemed to drop several degrees, despite the thermostat not having been touched.

"It's real, alright. I chose it," Lapis had answered, after a long arctic silence, glaring over her shoulder. "Had some shit go down. Didn't want anyone finding me. Filled out the paperwork right after I left."

"What happened?" Peridot had blundered on. Lapis' eyes had flashed dangerously.

"To cut a long story short: none of your fucking business. Oh, and by the way, being snippy about anyone's name is rich coming from someone named _Peridot_."

"No! I... I changed mine, too," she'd stammered. "Well - not legally, but my name _is_ Peridot. I became tired of people mispronouncing my name on purpose. In school, that is. Not my parents. They picked it. Obviously. They pronounced it just fine."

She'd been babbling. Lapis' icy stare had made her anxious, and she'd begun to tap four fingers against her thumb: quick little beats, exactly one per second.

"Great," Lapis had said, sarcasm dripping from the long drawn-out vowels, halfway to turning her back once more. Peridot never knew, afterwards, what made her keep talking; but the words spilled out of her like the gush of a long-blocked tap.

"They actually had a hard time over it. Picking my name. My birth name. They were concerned about their choice being inauspicious - there are a range of rules and conventions when choosing names. But when I was given the opportunity to choose, I will admit, I went for the easiest possible route. My birthstone. Which, obviously, is Peridot. Which is my name. Now. To all intents and purposes." She'd swallowed, but pressed on when no interruption was forthcoming. "Lapis lazuli is typically accepted as a birthstone for September or December. The gold traces in lapis lazuli are, in fact, flecks of pyrite. But... um. You likely already knew that. Because it's... your... name."

She'd finally cringed herself into silence, and Lapis had just... stared. Peridot had had no idea how to interpret that. Was she mad? Sad? Frustrated by her stimming? The more she tried to guess, the more stressed she'd felt, and the tapping became more forceful.

"Well," Lapis had rolled her eyes, turning back to the wall and stepping back to see whether she'd pinned the fabric evenly, "I guess we both chose well, Peridactyl." 

"I - " She'd blinked, stunned. "I - I've never had a nickname before. At least, not one without deliberate intent to cause distress."

And Lapis had smiled - well, a wry half-smile, just an upward twist of one half of her lips. Still, it was the first time Peridot had seen her do anything other than scowl or stare blankly, and reassurance had bloomed in her chest her like a swig of hot sweet coffee on a cold morning. 

"This girl at orientation came up with it, when she asked who I was rooming with. She's a gem, too."

"Is that... a colloquialism?"

"No, she's literally another student with a gemstone for a name," Lapis had returned, tweaking out one of the push pins to adjust the mandala. "She's Amethyst. I'm Lapis. You're Peridot - and you're kinda weird. Is this a 'first day nerves' thing, or is this your deal literally all the time?"

The happy feeling had receded like the rush of an outgoing tide. _Well,_ she'd thought, _this might be a new record_. They hadn't even roomed together one night and already she'd been too _much_.

She'd felt the hot prickle of shame on her cheeks and in her eyes even as she remembered the words she'd rehearsed, repeated until it became a mantra, scrawled on sticky notes on her mirror: _I am smart. I am unique. I am resilient. I see the world differently, which is a strength,_ not _a defect._

"Hey. Yo, Earth to Peridot." She'd forced her eyes up, finally meeting Lapis', and had been startled to see her looking... annoyed? No. _Worried_. Her eyes were boring directly back into Peridot's, making her flinch and stare down at her toes, but in the instant their eyes had met she was certain Lapis looked worried.

"Are you... okay?" Lapis had seemed to hesitate over the words.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._ It was then that Peridot had realised how loud her stimming had gotten, and balled her hands into fists.

"I - I'm autistic," Peridot had blurted. "And - I _know_ I'm weird. I know you probably don't want to room with me and I -"

"Woah, Peridot." Lapis had raised both hands, fingers spread, in an placatory gesture. "No. Let's back the fuck up. I _asked_ if you were _okay._ " 

"I - " Peridot's mouth had worked uselessly, open and bewildered.

"You seemed freaked out, so... I asked if you were okay," Lapis had repeated, a little gentler.

"Did - did you not hear me?" Peridot had asked, perplexed. Lapis had seemed to think hard before she next spoke, brows knitted as if in concentration.

"I did hear you. I had friends who were on the spectrum, before... well. Before I moved." Lapis pressed her lips together, gaze flickering from Peridot to the floor, wall, door - and Peridot realised with a jolt of clarity that Lapis looked... uncomfortable. Awkward, even embarrassed. That was usually Peridot's default state of existence, especially when navigating the rocky terrain of interactions with new people.

"That - you being autistic - doesn't bother me. At _all_. I'm... kind of a bitch, I guess, but not like _that_ , you know?" Lapis had hesitated, rubbing the shaved swatch of hair at the nape of her neck, where her longish bob had been tapered to an undercut. "But you seemed like you were panicking and - " Realisation broke like a dawn across her features; which, Peridot had been ashamed to notice as they talked, were really very pretty.

"Look. You _are_ super weird, but it's not because of that, and - I've got my own shit, right? We're probably _both_ weird. And... I realize now that I probably sounded like a real asshole a minute ago. So - I'm sorry."

She'd apologised in a rush, cheeks flushing mahogany, addressing the chipped paint on the wall, round exposed spots of plaster where a previous occupant had clearly tried and failed to remove a poster without leaving any trace.

Peridot had blinked rapidly. She wasn't accustomed to being apologised _to_. On behalf of? Certainly. If she'd had a dollar for every time she heard someone utter the words "I'm sorry about her," she would never have needed to worry about college debt. But people rarely said they were sorry to her. It was unfamiliar to be the recipient, and she'd floundered for a long moment, unsure how to respond.

"I..." She'd frantically tried to assemble syllables into coherent language, while at her sides, her hands resumed a steadying rhythm. "...I accept your apology. Does this mean I _don't_ need to go to the RA?"

"Course not," Lapis had said, another faint half-smile. "Just like - tell me if I need to revisit anything, or if there's anything else I should know about. I know I can be super sarcastic, so... I guess, let me know if I'm ever making things hard on you."

"Sarcasm is an undervalued facet of comedy," Peridot had offered, brightening up, before taking a gamble. "You said you had friends on the spectrum prior to leaving for college. Can we... be friends?"

"No." Lapis' answer had been immediate, but not unkind, turning away from Peridot and back to her wall hanging. She'd eyed it - now perfectly even - with an air of satisfaction, before shooting her a sidelong look that Peridot hadn't been able to decipher. "...Not _yet_. We only moved in today. It's college. We're either gonna hate each other's guts or be friends within, like, a semester."

"...That is a fair assessment," Peridot had conceded, and returned to organising her box of electronics.

But the atmosphere had shifted minutely. From then on Lapis was, in her own manner, considerate: always taking the time to revisit any idioms Peridot struggled to interpret; mindful not to shout when they did bicker because the noise set Peridot's brain into a tailspin; careful not to startle her or crowd her when she was stimming, or interrupt her while she was processing a situation through a verbal stream-of-consciousness.

For her part, Peridot learned not to mess with Lapis' paints or swim gear; and that if she found her roommate in bed at noon, motionless and facing the wall, she hated to be spoken to but would slowly unfurl if you left Canadian summer camp sitcoms playing within listening distance. By winter break, they'd graduated to watching together. By spring break, they were discussing the relative merits of possible pairings together over takeout on the floor of their dorm room. 

Peridot had been grateful for her. She could have done far worse for a college roommate, and she'd been thrilled when Lapis broached the question of them continuing to live together - in her words, "because you'll get eaten alive out there, and I'm the only one who gets to fuck with you. Plus I don't want to have to start Camp Pining Hearts over with someone new."

(It hadn't been because the thought of Lapis living with newer, _better_ roommates and leaving Peridot out in the cold had whipped her into a jealous rage. At all.)

So, they were roommates. She'd known they made an odd pair, that even their friends didn't understand how the two of them ever managed to strike an unlikely chord. But she made up her mind to embrace it.

After all, they were both oddballs. Compatible strangeness was a rare gift, one which Peridot was not in the habit of refusing.

* * *

And now, years down the line, they are on a date - a real date, not precocious teenagers awkwardly playing at being grown. And Peridot has no experiences upon which to base her actions or responses, unless Camp Pining Hearts counts. (Which she hopes it does. She'd rewatched the episode in which Percy secretly invited Pierre to the bat count as a preparatory measure, just in case).

"So, what d'you want to do?" Lapis asks, cutting off her reverie as they break through another throng of tourists. Peridot's mouth dries up a little as Lapis smiles at her - a rare expression on Lapis' face, which never ceases to delight Peridot whenever she manages to earn it.

"I... will admit that I hadn't planned this afternoon's activities further than the action of 'asking you out'," she manages, swallowing, tongue searching uselessly for saliva. Lapis laughs, and Peridot would feel embarrassed, if it wasn't for Lapis' hand still in hers as convincing proof that the laugh is not one of derision.

"We can play it by ear," she hums, then catches Peridot's face. "As in - no plan. See where the mood takes us." She sniffs the air, wrinkling her nose at the distinctive smell of cheap fry oil. "This place smells like a heart attack waiting to happen."

"Delmarva ranks in the fifty-second percentile for obesity of all thirty-nine states," Peridot blurts out. _God._ Even she knows that this is not a good conversation topic for a date. Was this how Dewey felt, forever ago: churning out facts about student government, hoping she'd be impressed? But Lapis, strangely, doesn't seem fazed.

"It'd be way higher if it wasn't coastal," she replies. They're drifting towards the quieter end of the boardwalk, the competing corn dog stall and ring toss having bottlenecked a solid chunk of the fairgoers. "Guess when the beach is right there on the doorstep, people can't get out of learning to swim."

"That would be a reasonable excuse for my not learning to swim until I was twenty," Peridot concurs, and Lapis actually giggles. 

"I couldn't believe you were for real. I lived way inland too, and I swam my way to scholarship. You thrashed about like a freaked-out cat when we tossed you in the pool that one time we went upstate."

"How can I forget?" Peridot narrows her eyes. "Spring break memories are, naturally, best cemented by a _near-death experience_."

"You were fine, dork" says Lapis airily, as they pass a gaggle of teenage girls huddled around the entry to the fortune teller's booth, superstition battling curiosity as they debate whether or not to go in. "I jumped right in after you, remember? Like I was ever going to let anything bad happen to you."

"The irony of a lifeguard being responsible for me almost drowning is not lost on me," Peridot grumbles, though her cheeks heat a little at the protectiveness which Lapis' breezy tone doesn't manage to mask. Lapis' smile stretches, showing straight white teeth.

"You didn't die. Plus, you can doggy paddle now. I did my job."

Peridot tries to summon a scowl, but finds that she can't: not with Lapis' warm hand still in hers, and the last rays of early evening sunlight setting the blue of her hair aglow. Gulls screech, the fairground attractions pipe out tinny jangling music, and the hubbub of the crowd buzzes; but she manages to tune it out as they continue slowly up toward the marina, almost tripping herself up from watching Lapis rather than her step.

"Puppets? Seriously?" Lapis reads aloud from the closed shutters of an empty booth, where show times have been listed in chalk pen. Peridot hisses.

"Please, no. I would sooner repeat finals week."

"What, finals week junior year? When you almost OD'd on Sugar Shock Shutdown, then freaked out because you thought a thundershower was the apocalypse starting?"

"I don't _like_ storms," Peridot whines, and Lapis gives her hand a squeeze. 

"I know, Dot. But trying to camp out in our bathroom was a touch too far, even if it felt safe. Point taken, though: no puppets."

With nothing else to catch their interest, they loop back along the opposite boardwalk. The silence that falls isn't uncomfortable, and they've spent many an evening relaxing in near-silence working on their projects: Lapis with her paints, Peridot with wheels and wires and soldering iron. In this new context, though, Peridot's brain begins to work overdrive: now that they are On A Date, does prolonged silence indicate boredom on Lapis' part? Or, stars, that Lapis will think _she_ is bored?

The thought sparks a little electric frisson of panic through her, and she searches their surroundings for inspiration; eyes darting around for something - anything - to talk about. 

"Hall of mirrors?" she suggests at random, pointing to a nearby sign unimaginatively picked out with mirror lettering. Lapis gives a barely perceptible shudder.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Noted. Your candour is appreciated." Peridot is sincere, smiling and giving her a thumbs-up as they pass. Lapis gives a tiny chuckle.

"We are... really freaking strange, aren't we?" she muses, with no trace of a sting in her words. As they step through the long shadow thrown by the face-painting tent, the golden tinge to the dying light illuminates Lapis' dark eyes, leaving them beautifully soft and clear. Peridot has to mentally check herself to keep from staring, finds herself chewing her lip instead - a outward manifestation of the worry, siphoning her focus like a parasitic circuit, in the back of her mind.

"Is that... bad?"

"No," Lapis says quickly, and her grip tightens in reassurance. "The opposite. I like it. I like you."

"...I reciprocate the sentiment," Peridot manages, hoarse. She is spared the mercy of having to find further words as they are forced to part to fit through the queue milling around the hot dog stand. As soon as they are through the crowd, Lapis reaches back, extending her hand once again; and Peridot notices as she interlaces their fingers that each subsequent instance feels more natural. Like so many other things she has had to learn, holding Lapis' hand improves with practice. The realization bolsters her a little.

"How favourably does this experience compare to your previous experiences with 'first dates'?" she asks. Lapis inhales slowly, considering her answer, as she thumbs the back of Peridot's hand, where the veins show faintly bluish through the thin skin.

"It's not like I've had a bunch. I was kind of... off dating, remember? But don't sweat it - we're good. You're doing good," she clarifies, then glances at the crowd, raising an amused eyebrow. "Wonder how those two nerds are doing?"

"Amethyst and Pearl?"

"Yeah. It's funny," Lapis says, as they make their meandering way back towards the fairground games, "They didn't seem to have a clue. How oblivious can you get?"

Peridot considers the question. "Rather. But - I think it's likely that they were choosing to exist in a state of denial."

"Mm?" Lapis quirks an eyebrow as she leads Peridot around the winding line of shrieking kids waiting at the cotton candy stand. 

"I do. I think that given the blatantly obvious attraction between them, they were each choosing to remain wilfully inactive for fear of their feelings not being reciprocated." Peridot is forced to let go of Lapis' hand again as they weave between the crowd gathered around a duo of human statues, and finds herself actually missing the feeling of the other girl's hand in her own - which is odd. She is not typically comfortable with prolonged physical contact.

Lapis is smiling, shades of devilish but not unkind, as they rejoin on the other side of the crowd.

"Speaking from experience, there, Dot?"

Peridot blushes. Her capillaries certainly receive a workout when Lapis is around, especially when she gets mischievous: sticking her tongue out at Peridot, with those dark eyes glimmering wickedly.

"I - "

"Oh, I'm teasing. It's okay," Lapis says. They've stopped in a shady nook between the kiddie trampolines and the queue for the corndog stall, and it's here that she turns to face Peridot fully. "I'm sorry. Am I being mean?"

"No!" Peridot says quickly. "I mean - not _mean_. You're just - you're just being Lapis."

Lapis laughs, and the slight hollowness to it sets Peridot's nerves skittering. "A whole lot of people would say I was mean."

"I would challenge them to provide evidence to that end that was free of bias," Peridot says, jutting out her chin. "Plus, I for one find you amusing."

"Do you now?" Lapis' smirk puts in a repeat appearance. 

"Obviously. In the interests of balance: your sense of humor is twisted, you're frequently sarcastic, and you tend toward spells of low mood, but... once you grow accustomed to navigating that, I find you far more pleasant to be around than the vast majority of people."

Lapis blinks, glances away briefly, and if Peridot didn't know better she'd think Lapis had come over shy. "I - thanks. I'm glad you think so, at least."

"It was my understanding that enjoying someone's company is a precursor to the event of 'asking them out'," Peridot frowns.

"Yeah," Lapis says, looking at Peridot under her lashes. "That and thinking they're hot, mostly."

"Well..." Peridot swallows. Her mouth is suddenly dry, and she feels suddenly warmer despite the setting sun and cool ocean breeze. "I believe that both of those criteria have been fulfilled."

Lapis steps closer. "You do?"

"I do," Peridot says, the noise of the fairground around them fading as her pulse whooshes overwhelmingly loud in her ears.

Lapis' face is close to hers, so close Peridot could count every eyelash if she so wished. She smiles softly and leans in, stopping with their noses barely brushing.

As Lapis' eyes flutter closed, Peridot realises with a jolt that Lapis is about to kiss her - that she is about to be kissed, her first kiss, with Lapis, who _wants_ to kiss her, who she wants to kiss. At least - she thinks she does. She does. Doesn't she?

Her mind reels. Kissing. Kissing Lapis, right here, right now. Open mouths. Slimy tongues. Hot sticky breath. Salivary amylase. Hordes of people, all those sweaty tourists, watching them. Sweat. Plaque. Bacteria. Disease. Peridot's whole body tenses. 

She wants to want it - _so_ badly - but her internal panic keeps her from closing the distance between them. Lapis' eyes open again, as she realises Peridot has made no move in response to her own; and the blue-haired woman draws back in alarm as she sees the wide wild panic writ large on Peridot's face.

“Hey. It's okay. You don’t have to,” Lapis says softly. 

“I am... so sorry,” Peridot stammers out, yanking her hand free of Lapis', face aflame to the roots of her hair.

“Peri, I’m not... expecting anything,” she says, brow concertinaed in a frown. “I would never have gone out with you with any kind of agenda.”

“No! I - I _want_ to,” Peridot groans, frustrated. “I just - can’t. I want to so badly. I...” Her shoulders droop miserably. “I wish I could be normal.”

“No,” Lapis says sharply. “Fuck a bunch of that. I don't want normal. I want... whatever the hell we're doing.”

Peridot forces herself, with difficulty, to look at Lapis. She can't quite stomach direct eye contact, with the roiling knot of shame pulsing in her gut, so she settles to looking at Lapis' eyebrows as she talks, watching them rise and fall as she speaks.

“I know you’re a weirdo. I’ve _always_ known you were a weirdo, Peridot. You talk to your robots, and you obsess over TV shows, and you..." She laughs, just for a moment, light and fond; the sound soothing the roaring panic flaring like a furnace in Peridot's mind.

"You wear green glasses and alien print shirts, and you're _way_ too attached to your games and... I've never known anyone else like you. And that has _nothing_ to do with you being on the spectrum, okay?” Lapis’ dark eyes are sharp, but her tone is warm. “I like hanging out with you _our_ way - not Pearl and Amethyst’s way, or anyone else’s. Our dates don’t have to be 'normal'.” The last word is loaded with disgust, bracketed with the air quotes for additional emphasis.

“...You used ‘dates’ as a plural," Peridot comments, confusedly, in a murmur.

“Well, yeah. Obviously, I want to do this again,” she says, rolling her eyes without malice. She finds Peridot’s hand, raising a questioning eyebrow as the backs of their fingers brush, checking in. Peridot nods, and Lapis takes her hand properly, gives it a squeeze. It feels... nice. She wishes her palm wasn’t as sweaty, but Lapis seems unbothered.

“I mean it, Peridot,” she continues. “There’s no pressure to... do anything. Ever. Even just kissing.”

“My understanding is that engaging in courtship rituals is expected to include or culminate in a kiss,” Peridot says, warily.

“Just because it might the norm doesn’t mean we have to do it,” Lapis returns. Her hair is blue as the evening ocean beyond the pier and the light breeze catches it, lifts it around her shoulders. Peridot finds it captivating, but Lapis impatiently brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “I don't expect shit. We don’t have to anything just because it’s what other people would usually do.”

“I... am concerned that this arrangement might be a disappointment for you," Peridot manages, dropping her head.

“Nah," Lapis says, voice softening. "I really do like hanging out with you.”

“I am... sorry. For being - “ Different? Difficult? Peridot searches for the words and comes back short, glancing up shamefacedly behind the thick rims of her glasses. 

Social cues are usually an exhausting exercise in managing anxiety - was she too loud? Too slow? Too detailed? Too blunt? The social pitfalls are endless, and navigating them feels like a constant conversational game of Space Intruders.

But it’s easier with Lapis - possibly because, after everything she has already endured, she has so few shits left to give that they’re unlikely to be wasted getting wound up if Peridot talks about Camp Pining Hearts one time too many.

Socialising is easier with Lapis. Peridot wonders if other things might be easier, too, in the future. But for now, Lapis smiles, and Peridot can’t help the upward quirk of her own lips in response.

“No need. C’mon.” Her dark eyes crinkle at the corners as she tugs Peridot gently by the wrist towards the stalls, guiding her along. “I want to see these infamous ring toss skills. Win me a plushie.”

* * *

Someday, in the future, she _will_ kiss Lapis. She’ll research and agonise and panic and work herself into a frenzy and then - when she’s gathered up the nerve, terrified that The Moment will pass before she can finally act upon it - will practically dive at her, as the other girl she steps out of the bathroom after her post-swim shower.

And Lapis will laugh, not unkindly, and ask with a coy smile if the results of the first trial matched her hypothesis; and Peridot will stare at her with eyes blown wide before she kisses her the second time, and the third - it is, after all, important to repeat your experiments to gather a representative sample of data.

But that day isn’t today. For the time being, where they’re at is okay, so Peridot smiles as she lets herself be led back into the crowd by Lapis.

**Author's Note:**

> y'know when you run into someone from high school - in the store or on the street or where-the-fuck-ever - and you make small talk while sizing up how far from your Big and Exciting Plan each other landed?  
> welp. poor baby Bill Dewey's dreams of running for office ended up with him peaking at Beach City, and you better believe Peri and Lapis have a freaking field day over it.
> 
> also, I firmly believe that - once Peri felt secure and comfortable, with the understanding that Lapis didn't expect a damn thing - that lovable neurodivergent dorito would absolutely knock that shit out of the park. she's single-minded once she sets her mind to be great at anything, so naturally she dedicates herself wholeheartedly to her new mission and whaddyaknow, practice makes progress, 11/10 would make out again. Lapis claims full credit for turning that nerd into a lean green kissing machine.
> 
> Comments are love, concrit always welcome, stay safe out there.


End file.
